Peace, Natalie

The large drops of rain seemed to claw at the window, forming rivers in the streets below. I stared at the sky as a big bolt of lightning lit up the clouds, causing the building to shake.

The storm didn't bother me, nothing did, really. I peered down the ten stories below me out the apartment window, watching the people on the ground. Cars skidded on the wet roads while people raced to get home to their warm, cozily-lit fires, maybe a cup of coffee, a midnight movie.

I took a small, deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It felt so odd, being here, alone.

Suddenly, I felt an ache, gut-wrenching and deep. I leaned my head against the cold glass and closed my tired eyes, listening to the fall of the rain. The apartment was dark, but I liked it that way.

The only sounds came from outside and I focused on them. The honk of a cab as it swerved around the street corner. The faint sound of sirens coming from a far-off police car speeding into the night.

New York was so big, yet so, so quiet. I took another deep breath: in through the nose, out through the mouth. Another bolt of lightning shook the sky and at that very moment, there was a knock on my door.

I opened my eyes, peering into the darkness of my apartment, waiting for the person to knock again. Had I dreamt it?I stood up and padded to my room, passing the hollow bottles littering the table, and put on a T-shirt. The knock came yet again- this time, it felt, more urgent.

I hurried over to the door and unlocked it, peering out into the hallway just enough to lock eyes with an old man.

He looked around seventy years old, with white, fraying hair and stoney-grey eyes, "Hello," he said warmly, smiling, "I was wondering if I could, perhaps, stay with you until this storm passes. Would that be a bother?"

I opened the door a bit wider to size him up; He had on a red raincoat, and matching red boots. And, in one of the pockets on the coat, sat a red rose, barely visible in the dimly-lit hallway.

"Um," I hesitated, "you came all the way...up here? To see...me?"

He smiled again, a twinkle in his eye, and nodded. I stared. He obviously wasn't here to wait out the rain. But then, why was he? I knew from years of living in the threatening streets of Chicago, that even this old, kind man, could be someone horrible in disguise. But something in me wanted to let him in.

Maybe it was the pretty flower in his pocket- maybe the bright colors he wore despite the glumness of New York.

But whatever it was, I didn't seemed to care, and opened the door. The man said nothing, just nodded politely at me, and stepped inside. I closed the door slowly and locked it back, following him with my eyes while doing so.

He walked straight into the dark kitchen, and sat down at my small dining table, evidently unaware that it was occupied with empty bottles of beer. "So," he began, removing his rain coat, "this is where you live,"

I didn't respond, unsure if it was an insult, or a compliment. He didn't seem to mind that I hadn't said anything, just continued to dry himself off.

"Oh!" his eyes lit up and I jumped a bit, scared he would pull out a knife. "I brought you a little something... for your hospitality," he reached into his pocket and I braced myself.

But the man merely pulled out the rose and held it out to me, grinning, "My name's Dennis,"

I took the rose slowly, careful not to prick myself on the sharp thorns, "...Natalie." I responded, nodding.

He beamed and shook my hand, "Natalie... what a beautiful name,"

I turned to the oven clock: 1:04. Was I dreaming? It was quite late... but no. No, this man was here. I poked myself with one of the thorns just to be sure. A little drop of blood fell to the floor and I watched it stain the carpet with a little dot. Looking up, I saw Dennis was staring at it too, then up at me.

His eyes, just for a millisecond, were not the grey I'd seen a few minutes ago. They almost looked blackin the darkness of the kitchen. And, just as lightning lit up the sky, I saw him grin wildly, his yellow teeth glinting in the electric light.

But then it was gone, just as it had been there, and he smiled warmly again, tapping his finger on the head of the table, "So, Natalie- how are you?"

He talked as if we were old friends. As if I'd known him for years, and honestly, it felt like I had. Something about his features made my head hurt, like I was supposed to have recognized him. "I-" how was I?

Well, the truth was I wasn't doing so good- but that was probably quite evident, given that I'd obviously purchased too much liquor and that I was wearing John's old, oversized T-shirt, and that I most likely hadn't showered in at least two days.

Should I lie to this man? Is that what old people expected from you? But no, certainly Dennis would want me to tell the truth. Part of me was scared what he'd do if I didn't. So I said shakily, "I'm tired," it was all I could say.

No, I didn't need sleep, not that kind of tired. I needed peace, rest. I needed John. Dennis smiled kindly, "We all feel that sometimes, I know I do. Would you like to talk about it?"

Yes. I wanted to talk about it so bad, to get it off my chest.

But I stopped myself: this man, no matter how nice he seemed, was a stranger, a stranger in my own home.

I backed away a little, regaining some sense I suppose. Why had I let him in? Dennis seemed to notice my discomfort and stood, taking me by the hand and leading me to the other chair at the table.

He gathered a few empty bottles and threw them in the trash can just as another bolt lit the sky. I stared numbly at him as he sat back down, setting the rose in front of me, like a reminder of my pain.

"Tell me, Natalie, what happened between you and John?"

My mind was quiet, I couldn't think. What had happened? I didn't know what had happened. "I-" I took a shaky breath, "he left me,"

Dennis nodded, "He left you. And how did that make you feel?"

That gut-wrenching pain came back and I took another breath, staring out the window across from us, "Alone," I whispered as thunder boomed in the distance.

"Mm, I understand that feeling, Natalie. I know why you're tired...and I can help."

I turned back to him questioningly, "W-what?"

"I can help you. I can help you find peace."

Another bolt of lightening.

I stared into his grey eyes, stoney and hardly-set. He was serious, he could help me. "I- I'm so...lonely..."

Tears filled my eyes and I didn't bother to blink them away, "I know Natalie, I know..."

His voice, once calm and even, was different, almost like John's.

I looked up and gasped. He stood there, right in front of me. His messy black hair and brown eyes, the small freckles on his nose, his dimples, curving when he smiled.

"J-John?" I whispered hoarsely. He smiled, "Natalie," he said, almost echoey. "Natalie," he said again, but this time it was Dennis, yet with John's voice, "Natalie," then it was both of them, and then John, and Dennis again, back and forth.

I screamed, my hand caught on one of the bottles and it shattered to the ground. "Natalie," came the voice again, "Wake up, Natalie...."

"Lonely, Natalie...."

"Peace, Natalie..."

And then a new voice... a soft voice, "Natalie, Natalie wake up, it's just a dream, it's just a dream,"

I bolted upright in the bed, screaming. John held me, rubbing my back, "It's okay... Natalie- it's okay- you just had a nightmare."

I sobbed into his shirt and held on to him as he stroked my hair.

The rain outside was heavy on the roof and I could hear thunder booming, like the wrath of something evil.

I took deep breaths, still clutching John as I tried to get the words out. He turned on a lamp and wrapped a blanket around me as I retold my dream about Dennis and the flower, and the loneliness I'd felt. After a while, we lied back down, listening to the rain, him holding me close.

 And as my eyes fluttered shut, I could just make out the outline of Dennis in our window, smiling and twisting a rose in his boney hands, before falling asleep.